When Satan Takes You Over
by sylvia37
Summary: Set in Season 5 during "Point of No Return". After his talk with Dean in the panic room, Sam decides that the only way to keep Dean from saying "yes" to Michael is to take things into his own hands so he enlists Castiel's help. Title taken from a line in the episode.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** When Satan Takes You Over

**Author:** Sylvia37

**Summary:** Set in Season 5 during "Point of No Return". After his talk with Dean in the panic room, Sam decides that the only way to keep Dean from saying "yes" to Michael is to take things into his own hands and enlists Castiel's help.

**Author Note:** This is my first venture into "Supernatural" fanfiction. This story has been puttering around in my brain for a while and finally decided to go for it. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

"_When Satan takes you over….there's gotta be someone there to stop him. And it ain't going to be that kid…so it's gotta be me. "_

Sam stood in the shadows outside the panic room that he had just vacated, staring at the closed door.

"_I don't believe…"_

"_In what?" _

"_In you."_

"Don't sugar coat it, Dean_,_" he thought, pushing away from the wall, wiping at his burning eyes.

God, he'd been such an idiot.

He'd actually believed that Dean had forgiven him. Sam almost choked on a bitter laugh at the thought.

Sam had thought that Dean was actually starting to trust him again. When his brother called him after initially telling him they would be better off in different hemispheres, he'd really thought he had a chance and that Dean believed he would have his back. But obviously his brother had been lying to him ….and to himself. All of those times he'd said to Sam that it wasn't his fault, that he'd had good intentions, Dean hadn't really believed any of it.

His gut churning, Sam sat heavily on the bottom step of the basement stairs and put his head in his hands. He knew he deserved it. He'd been living on borrowed time as it was, hanging on to his brother's absolution with both hands, trying to be worthy of it, but playtime was over. If Dean was no longer willing to keep up the charade, then what chance did he have? Sam was pretty good at denial himself, but his brother's words had scraped his own wounds raw and there was no longer any need to keep pushing the truth away.

Not that he would do it on purpose. No, Sam thought bleakly, Dean was just doing what he did when the situation seemed beyond his control. Deny anything was wrong until you absolutely had no choice. Bury the feelings that you couldn't face until they forced their way up again. Well, Dean's true feelings about Sam had finally forced their way up and now they were out in the open, bleeding and infected like the unhealed wound they were.

"_You're angry…..you're self-righteous…"_

Self-righteous. Sam blearily wondered what he had to be self-righteous about. He'd failed at just about every endeavor he'd ever pursued. The long list of his failures played as constant background noise in his brain, reminding him on a daily basis of just how screwed he really was. His Mom, his Dad, Dean, Jess had all died because of him. Bobby was in a wheelchair, he was an addict, the list went on. Not exactly stuff to put in a resume. Sam snorted wetly at the thought.

Staring at the floor, he thought about how he used to consol himself about his demon-blood heritage. Denial, once again, had been his only solace after Dean had brought him back from the dead and he'd had time to dwell on the horrifying Technicolor vision Azazel had showed him of his mother's death. After all, he'd been six months old. He'd had no control over what was done to him.

But the truth was, God….or whoever was running the show…. must have known that something was inherently wrong with him. Sam swallowed against the bitter gall of that truth in his throat. Why else would he have been chosen to be the one who unleashed hell on the world? Why else would he be the one who was supposed to house the soul of the devil in his body?

Yeah, denial was a fickle bitch.

So what now? Sam wearily rose and took a step toward the stairs, only to stop, unable to figure out his next move.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't fix this. The sick feeling in his gut made him dizzy with the hopelessness of it. His well of reserves had finally run dry. Always before this point, even when he thought he was at the bottom of the barrel, Sam found a way to keep going, scraping up some tiny bit of hope and managing to go on. Even when he didn't want to.

But now…there was nothing. And he knew why.

"_I don't believe…"_

"_In what?" _

"_In you."_

Falling back once more, Sam leaned against the wall. He stared into the shadows of the basement and wondered if he just curled up in the corner and covered his head, if everyone would just forget about him and let his memory die a quick death. Not since he'd watched Dean get torn to shreds and had to bury his body, had Sam wanted so badly to just not exist. To die for real this time, and…..

_Anna actually looked slightly sad as she shoved the rusted pipe into his gut, the pain supplanted by the coppery taste of blood, surging up his throat to spill onto the dusty floor….._

Sam grimaced as the memory flashed in his head. If only it had worked. If only Michael had refused to fix him or better yet, if only Dean and Castiel had allowed Anna to go ahead with her plan to kill him and scatter his cells, he wouldn't be standing here…..

Sam stood upright from the wall, his thoughts suddenly churning, remembering the look on Castiel's face when he told him that Anna's plan wouldn't work. It was obvious to Sam that the angel was lying, but he hadn't pursued it because he knew Dean would fight him on it and he wasn't willing to go against his brother.

Things were different now.

Maybe it could still work. Sam scrubbed at the moisture on his cheeks before agitatedly pushing the hair back from his forehead, the thought taking root. Not Anna of course…but some other angel who would be willing…he glanced up the staircase. Castiel. No….he shook his head. Even if he was willing, Castiel's powers were not enough to perform that kind of task anymore. Thanks to him and Dean, Sam thought guiltily.

No, it would have to be some other angel. Surely there was another who would be more than willing to help end the boy with the demon blood's life for good. Sam felt a sick hope, still remembering the pain those words invoked. But he would have to have Cas's help.

Starting toward the staircase again, Sam suddenly paused, turning back to stare at the panic room door.

He wasn't so much of a martyr as to believe that his death wouldn't affect his brother. Sam knew that Dean didn't really want him dead. Whether it was truly out of actual love or just the long time duty of looking after him that their father had invoked, Sam knew that Dean would still not condone this plan, no matter how much he was willing…. as Michael's vessel…..to finally give into the inevitable that Dad had laid on him so long ago and kill him.

God, that hurt. Knowing in his heart that he deserved Dean's condemnation and actually giving voice to it in his head…..Sam rolled his shoulders back against the pain. Dean would survive. He might not want to, but eventually, the pain would lessen and he would get through it. He was stronger than Sam. He'd proven that by coming back from hell, changed but intact. He was not the same man who couldn't live without his brother all those years ago. He would find a way to go on.

Continuing to gaze at the closed door, Sam imagined his brother inside, lying on the cot, and doubt suddenly crept in. He really didn't want to do this. As much as he wished sometimes for his sad excuse of a life to be over, Sam didn't really want to leave Dean alone. He didn't want to die knowing that his brother no longer had any hope left or worse yet, no longer believed in the two of them.

"_Lucifer's gonna wear you to the prom and you know it."_

"_Don't say that to me. Not you...of all people."_

"_I don't want to. But it's the truth."_

"_When Satan takes you over….there's gotta be someone there to stop him. And it ain't going to be that kid…so it's gotta be me. "_

The doubt slowly drained away in the wake of the memory of his brother's weary voice. Dean had tried so hard to stand by him, working with him after the night at the convent, first letting him go then taking him back after seeing their doomed future, and even willing to try and put them on equal ground after Sam had asked him to, but the fiasco with Famine and the bitter disappointment of heaven had been too much even for Dean's stubborn faith.

Sam got it. He really did. No matter that heaven had been rigged as far as he was concerned and Famine notwithstanding, Sam didn't blame Dean for giving up on him. His big brother had held on longer than anyone had a right to expect, especially after going to hell and coming back to find his little brother had willingly gone off the deep end and done exactly what he'd asked him not to. No, Sam didn't blame him in the least.

He stood there for another second, then turned to the staircase and slowly started to ascend, pushing down the regret that made him want to go back into the panic room and blurt out more useless apologies. What good would it do? His words meant nothing in the face of his failures. His failure to prove to Dean that he was trustworthy, his failure to fight his self inflicted weakness against Famine, his failure to show Dean what he was worth to Sam himself and to the world… so many things….

But this time, hopefully, he would not fail. Sam didn't know if Anna's plan would work, but it was no longer an option to be ignored. They were at the end of the line and if his death was what it took to stop the apocalypse, then at least this time when he died, it would not be meaningless. It wouldn't make up for what he'd done to Dean, but at least it could save the world he'd helped to condemn. That would have to be enough.

These stairs had never seemed so hard to climb before…


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who is reading and following this story. Please take a minute and let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you._

**Chapter 2**

Sam entered Bobby's living room, coming to a halt when he saw the older man and Castiel there. Glancing toward where Adam was sleeping on the couch, he opened his mouth to speak when Bobby's voice stopped him.

"How's he doing?"

The simple question brought all the emotion Sam had been trying to push back while coming up the stairs right back to the forefront, so he settled for simply shaking his head.

Bobby must have seen something of Sam's struggle because his expression softened as he asked, "How you doing?"

Unable to answer still, Sam tried to look okay as he nodded at little, but he could tell by the man's expression that he wasn't fooling anyone. Bobby sighed and turned in his wheelchair toward the kitchen.

"I'll make us all some grub."

Clearing his throat, Sam turned to the angel who had been silently watching the exchange, waiting until Bobby had wheeled away to address him.

"Cas….I um…..I need to talk to you."

The angel's expression didn't change from the scowl that had taken over it since they'd arrived on Bobby's doorstep hours ago, but his body language indicated that he was listening.

"Let's….,"Sam glanced back toward the kitchen. "Let's go outside." Not waiting for a reply, Sam headed toward the front door, feeling the angel following behind him. When they reached the porch, Sam turned to him to speak, but the consequence of what he was about to ask momentarily overwhelmed him and he hesitated. Feeling the weight of Castiel's stare upon him as he stood tongue tied, Sam finally made himself to talk.

"I want to ask you if something's….possible." Sam hesitated again, looking back toward the house where his brother sat inside the panic room and steeled himself.

"Dean's determined to say yes to Michael." Sam glanced at the silent angel, seeing his expression darkening. "We can't let him and I'm not seeing a way out of this short of keeping him down there indefinitely…which…."

"What do you want me to do?" Castiel's gravelly voice interrupted Sam's rambling.

Sam nodded, and piercing the other man with a direct stare, he said determinedly, "I know that you lied to me when you told me that Anna's plan to kill me wouldn't work."

Castiel's brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

"I know that you only said it would because of Dean…..but…," Sam's determination faltered for a moment as he swallowed, but he forced himself to continue. "Dean's not in the game anymore." He looked up at Castiel again. "We're out of options. We have to consider all possibilities now."

"What are you asking of me, Sam?"

He may have imagined it, but Sam thought he detected a softening in the angel's normally steely voice.

"I want you…..I know you don't have your mojo anymore, but I want you to…..there has to be someone else. Some other angel you could get who would willing to ….go through with it." Sam's statement ended on a whisper as he voiced the words, but he made himself hold Castiel's gaze.

The angel stared at him for a moment before, surprisingly enough, looking away from the taller man's eyes. "I am cut off from heaven, Sam. You know that."

"But you aren't denying that you lied, right?" Sam pressed, feeling anxious now that the question had been asked. "It might work….Anna's plan."

"Yes, I lied. Anna's plan to kill you and scatter your cells across the universe might succeed in keeping Lucifer from bringing you back, but as you said, I don't have the….mojo….to do it myself." Castiel looked at Sam pointedly, his blue eyes suddenly reflecting his otherworldly status as he added, "even if I wanted to."

Sam looked down, feeling a renewed rush of emotion at the angel's words. This attitude was such a far cry from their first meeting and subsequent dealings that it was hard to take in. He had always thought of Castiel as "Dean's angel", and it was a little overwhelming to know that he was no longer considered just Dean's demon-blood tainted brother.

"There's got to be someone else," Sam said after a moment. "Some other angel who feels the same as Anna did."

"Most of the angels are following Michael's lead. They have no free will."

"Most, but not all," Sam pointed out, taking advantage of the angel's words. "There have to be some who don't want the apocalypse. Some who would be willing to help you stop Lucifer from getting me as his vessel."

"Dean would not approve of this plan, Sam."

The words stopped Sam short. "Dean…..he doesn't….," Sam swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Like I said, Dean's no longer in the game so he doesn't get a say." Sam stared at Castiel steadily, keeping his face determinedly neutral.

"I am relatively sure that Dean would have something to say if he knew what you were planning."

Sam broke the angel's sharp gaze, shaking his head against the rising emotion in his chest. He looked back up, unaware of the nakedness of his expression. "You have to do this, Cas. You have to help me do this. You're the only one who can and my life…." Sam blinked against the sudden burning in his eyes. "My life's not worth….."

"Your life is worth it to Dean," the quiet voice of the angel came and Sam shook his head, unable to speak against the tears clogging his throat.

"What did Dean say to you to make you come to this decision, Sam?"

Sam shook his head again, ruthlessly forcing down the emotion threatening to unravel his determination. "Nothing. He didn't say anything other than that he won't let Adam take the fall for him. I can't get him to change his mind." He looked at Castiel with more composure. "You're a soldier, Cas. And you know we can't afford to lose this war. If my life is what it takes to win then you know we have to consider the possibility if it's feasible that this might work. If it doesn't..." Sam hesitated, not wanting to think about the consequences of another failure on his head. "If it doesn't, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Castiel stared his piercing stare for a moment, then blinked in what appeared to be acquiescence. "It will take me some time. I cannot let Michael know what I am doing."

Sam let out a breath, not realizing that he'd been holding it. "Okay….okay. Just get back as soon as you can and I'll…."

"I assume you don't want Bobby to know what you're doing ," Castiel stated.

"No," Sam answered, feeling guilty, but knowing that he couldn't confide in the gruff hunter. "He…"

"He would not approve either," the angel finished for him, his knowing gaze boring into Sam's.

"I have to do this, Cas." Sam's expression once more determined as he spoke. "I can't stand around doing nothing when I know that this might save everyone. I just can't.

You know I'm right."

The angel didn't say anything and the next moment Sam was startled as a flap of wings blew his hair into his eyes. When he looked again, Castiel was gone from the porch, leaving him alone.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who is /reviewed/following/favorite/reading. On to the next part. _

**Chapter 3**

When Sam re-entered the house, Bobby was rolling out of the kitchen.

"Food's ready," he said, looking past Sam. "Where's cloud boy?"

Sam felt his lips twitch in spite of himself. "He's checking out some stuff. He'll be back later."

Bobby grunted and turned back toward the kitchen. "There's sandwiches and chips and beer."

Sam followed the man to the kitchen and saw a plate of food with a bottle and napkin set out on a tray which he assumed was for Dean. Hesitating for a moment, he picked up his own plate and bottle and put it on the tray as well along with a magazine he saw sitting on the counter.

"I'm just gonna…." Sam gestured toward the basement stairs. "Do you mind keeping an eye on…."

Bobby waved him off, wheeling toward his study. "Go do what you gotta do, kid. I'll look after Adam," he said, taking his own food on his lap and heading to his desk.

Sam carried the tray down the stairs, but paused when he reached the bottom, realizing something.

This might be the last time he saw his brother.

Feeling suddenly light headed as a wave of sick apprehension suddenly churned in his gut, Sam set the tray down on the bottom step, feeling it start to tremble in his nerveless fingers. He stared at the panic room door.

God, what the hell was he doing? How was he going to face Dean and eat his lunch as though nothing had changed, when he might be going off to his death soon?

Almost deciding to forgo the ordeal, Sam waivered back and forth for a moment.

He couldn't do it. He needed to see his brother one last time. There might be nothing left to say, but he couldn't do what he had to do without spending a few moments with Dean in peace.

At least he hoped it would be peaceful.

Sam bent to pick up the tray….

* * *

Dean looked up as the panic room door suddenly rattled, sitting up to see his brother enter, carrying a tray.

Seeing the plates, he gestured, "At least you decided not to starve me until I caved."

Sam didn't answer him, and Dean sighed inwardly, not really surprised. Actually, the thing he was most surprised about was seeing his brother at all. After what he'd said to him, Dean wasn't sure what Sam would do, but coming down to his prison cell to eat with him hadn't been on the list.

Silently, the younger man placed the tray on the bed next to Dean, before sitting himself on the only chair in the room. Sam still didn't speak or really look at his brother as he picked up his sandwich.

Regarding him for a moment, Dean shook his head and reached for his own food. If his pig headed brother didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to force him. Looking down at the bed where his plate lay, he was surprised to see Bobby's latest copy of "Guns and Ammo" sitting there. Glancing back up at Sam, he felt a twinge of guilt. His brother appeared to be engrossed in his food, but he knew from experience that Sam wasn't really eating so much as avoiding him. His eyes were hidden behind his long bangs, as he toyed with his chips before picking up his beer bottle to take a drink.

He hadn't really wanted to tell him the truth. Part of Dean wished even now that he had just kept his mouth shut when Sam had asked him point blank why he was giving up, but his traitorous mouth had gotten the better of him and he found himself confessing what he'd been holding in since coming awake in his blood spattered body after their disastrous trip to heaven. All of the resentful feelings that had surfaced during that ill fated trip-culminating in him tossing his amulet in the trash-had come bubbling up, and letting them finally spew out at the object of his feelings had felt good, even as he'd immediately felt guilty seeing Sam's reaction.

But he'd squashed the feeling. Sam had deserved his words. He'd deserved to know the truth of why Dean was willing to become some angel's meatsuit to save the world. That he was willing to go against everything they'd been trying to do for the last year if it meant that he wouldn't have to live with his failure to save his brother. He'd rather give into Michael now and let him do the dirty work, then later when it was too late and Sam was wearing Lucifer to prom.

Dean looked up and found his brother staring at him with an expression that was quickly wiped away at his glance. Something about it bothered him, invoking a feeling he didn't like.

What he didn't remember was that it was the same expression Sam wore right before he walked out the door to start his life at Stanford. The same combination of hurt and determination, love and resignation.

A few moments later, he watched Sam rise from his place to walk toward him, taking his plate and empty bottle to put back on the tray. Dean's eyebrows rose at the slight tremble in his brother's hands as he took the things away and he wondered what caused it. He found himself unable to keep quiet.

"You okay?"

Sam's shoulders stiffened where he'd had his back to him, gathering the dishes.

When he turned back to face him, Dean looked up at him in inquiry as he his brother remained silent.

"You'll be out of here soon, Dean." Sam's voice was husky when he finally answered, and Dean frowned.

"You're letting me out?"

"Not….not yet, but…" Sam turned away from him again, and picked up the tray. "Cas's working on something." He made to leave, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait a minute," Dean said suspiciously, not liking that answer and the feeling that Sam's expression left him with. "What….."

"Don't worry about it, Dean. This isn't your problem anymore."

"What do you mean, 'This isn't my problem? The Michael problem or the Lucifer problem?" Dean got up to confront his brother, but Sam was already at the door. "Hey, answer me! What the hell is Cas doing ? What prob…."

"All of the problems," Sam said, stepping out of the panic room door.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean growled, his arm shooting out to grab his brother, but Sam shut the door before he managed to make contact. "What the hell's going on?" Dean peered at him through the open grate in the door, but Sam wouldn't make eye contact, even though he didn't move away. "Send Cas down here," Dean demanded. "Cas!" he shouted, "Get your angelic ass down here and tell me what the hell you and my idiot brother are up to…..now!"

"Cas is gone, Dean," Sam told him almost wearily. "He'll be back later and you can talk to him."

"Sam…"Dean started angrily, but Sam was walking away toward the basement steps.

"Sam!" Dean shouted at him, but his brother ignored him, only the slight flinch in his shoulders showing that he'd heard him.

Dean turned back toward the cot in the panic room, wanting to punch a hole in the wall, but knowing he'd probably break every one of his fingers in the process. Sitting down, he dropped his head in his hands, the uneasy feeling in his gut making him nauseous as he thought of all the trouble that Sam could get into without him there to watch his back. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, also realizing that he'd given up that right the minute he'd left Sam to go say yes to Michael.

He was stuck. Dean closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall, wishing now that he hadn't eaten the lunch Sam had brought. It was threatening to come back up. God…..Sam…..

Dean sat forward and put his head in his hands.

"Cas, if you're listening man, you'd better not let that dumbass doing anything stupid…."

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to everyone who is reading. Please take a moment to let me know what you think. _

**Chapter 4**

Sam sat on the couch in Bobby's living room, arms braced on his knees, staring at the worn carpet without really seeing it. The small television was on and Adam was staring at the program, but Sam didn't think he was really watching it. He'd tried talking to him again, but the younger man refused to listen, so Sam had given up. Hopefully if his plan worked, it would fix that problem as well so…..

Sam sighed. He thought about the letters he had safely tucked in his jacket, ready to give to Castiel to give to Dean and Bobby. It felt inadequate. How do you sum up a lifetime of things to say in just a few sentences? He'd tried to explain to both men why he was doing what he was doing, wanting to make sure that they both understood that they were not to feel guilty or like there was something more they could have done. Sam knew it was futile, but he had to try.

Just as he was about to get up and make his way to the kitchen, a flutter of air blew through the living room and Cas suddenly appeared. Adam jumped.

"Shit, don't do that!"

Cas ignored him, gazing at Sam. "We have to talk."

Sam swallowed and nodded, following the angel back out to the porch.

"So….'

"I've found someone who will help us," Cas said without preamble.

"Okay," Sam fought back the sudden drop in his stomach. "Who is it?"

"No one you need concern yourself with. He is powerful enough to do what you want him to do and is willing."

Sam's brow wrinkled at this, but he didn't question it. "What do we have to do?"

"Are you sure you still want to go through with this?" The angel inquired, looking as though he was trying to pierce through Sam's brain with his stare.

His Adam's apple bobbing a few times, Sam finally nodded. "I have to."

"We must leave, then," Castiel said. He started to reach for Sam's forehead, but the taller man jerked back from his touch.

"Woah! Wait a minute. I have to tell Bobby I'm leaving."

"Do it quickly. I don't know how much time he has."

Sam nodded and turned back to the house, going inside to find Bobby at his desk. He stared for a moment, drinking in the tattered ball cap on the man's head and the ever present whiskey bottle sitting beside a huge, ancient looking tome Bobby was looking at. A lump formed in his throat, but as the older man looked up from his reading, Sam schooled his features and cleared his throat.

"Um…Cas is back and he wants to show me something. He thinks he may know where Zachariah's holding up. We're…..gonna go check it out….."

Bobby wheeled around the desk. "Wait….what do you mean 'check it out'. You need backup, boy, and I…"

"Hey…Hey…." Sam held up a hand to stop the older man's words. "We're only going to look. No going in. Just trying to see what we're up against."

The scruffy junkyard owner looked dubious, but he acquiesced. "Alright. Just….don't do anything stupid. You're the only one we've got left with legs who ain't tryin' to give himself to an angel."

Sam tried to maintain his expression even as his face paled a little as his conscience reminded him that that was exactly what he was about to do. Bobby stared at him moment, his brow furled, but Sam managed to nod and that seemed to satisfy him. The older man turned his wheelchair and headed back behind the desk.

Turning to leave, Sam hesitated. "Watch out for Dean, okay, Bobby?" He turned back for a second to look at the older man.

"He ain't goin' nowhere from down there, boy," Bobby said gruffly, staring at Sam, his eyebrows low beneath his trucker's cap.

Sam nodded, realizing that he couldn't say anything else without making the man suspicious so he turned to go.

"Be careful, Sam." Bobby's voice came behind him, Sam turned one last time, seeing his surrogate father staring at him with the usual veiled concern he always showed when he and Dean were about to undertake something dangerous. Swallowing against the feelings the look provoked, Sam nodded again and hurried out before those feelings showed on his face.

Castiel was gazing out over the junkyard when Sam appeared, having grabbed his jacket on the way out. The angel turned and at Sam's shaky nod, reached forward and touched his finger to the young man's forehead. Sam felt his stomach bottom out and couldn't hold back a gasp as they landed, closing his eyes for a second as he waited for his stomach to catch up.

When he opened them, he found himself standing near the edge of a cliff overlooking a vast empty field of green. There were occasional dots of color that he realized must be flowers. He could see farmhouses in the distance and craggy outcroppings that looked nothing like he'd ever seen.

"Where are we?" he asked wonderingly, momentarily taken in by the beauty of the place.

"Ireland," Castiel answered with his usual brusqueness. Sam turned to ask why he had chosen this place, but his question died in his throat as he suddenly realized there was a young man standing next to the angel, his arms crossed. His face held the same impassive expression that usually adorned Cas', but that was where the similarity ended. He was shorter than Castiel and his clothing was markedly different, just a tee shirt and worn jeans. He looked younger than Sam and had closed cropped hair and regular features. Except for his eyes. They were startlingly blue. As Sam stared, Castiel spoke to the young man.

"You are ready?"

A solemn nod came and Castiel turned to Sam. "This is Jophiel."

Sam could only nod a little in trepidation at the silent angel, feeling the sudden weight of what he was about to do. He turned out to the beauty of the panorama, feeling his insides starting to quiver with fear.

"It's time, Sam," Castiel's voice came solemnly and Sam turned to him to see the angel gazing at him with something close to compassion. It helped a little and Sam reached into his coat and pulled out two envelopes.

"Will you give these to Dean and Bobby for me?" He held the letters out to the other man.

"Of course," Castiel intoned, taking the envelopes and putting them into one of the pockets of his trench coat.

"Don't be too angry at Dean," Sam said huskily, as his gaze turned once again to the view from the cliff. "He's going to need his friends."

"I doubt Dean will allow me to be his friend after this," Castiel said with a slight note of irony in his voice and Sam felt his lips quirk involuntarily at the sound.

"You may be right," he said, "But if it works and the apocalypse is stopped, you'll have a lifetime to make it up to him."

"Do you think I can ever make up for the fact that I helped his brother kill himself?" The angel's tone was somewhat incensed, and Sam could see a glimpse of true emotion that Castiel let through at times.

Shaking his head, Sam took a deep breath, trying to shore up his conviction despite the tight knot of anxiety that had taken permanent residence in his gut.

"I should have died a long time ago, Cas. Dean should never have gone to hell. I can't take that away from him, but I can try to make up for the misery I've caused. It's all I've got left."

Castiel looked at him soberly. "I do not believe Dean will see it that way, but I will help you nonetheless because it may indeed stop what was started." He beckoned to Jophiel.

Sam felt a shiver of pure dread up his spine, but he tried not to quake as the other angel approached. Castiel nodded at Jophiel and turned back to Sam. "Goodbye Sam."

His voice shaking Sam tried to nod. "Thanks for everything, Cas."

Two fingers touched his forehead and darkness descended.

**_TBC..._**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks again to all who are reading and commenting and following. I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this next part.**

**Chapter 5**

Dean was pissed. He'd given up calling Castiel at least a half hour ago and when he called Bobby using his cell phone, all the older man had said was that Cas and Sam had left to check something out. Then he'd asked if Dean had pulled his head out of his ass yet and Dean had hung up on him.

Dean ran a hand over his chin. His emotions were all over the place, waffling from being angry at his brother for leaving him here while he ran off to do God knows what, and worried about the very same thing. Anger was winning out, as it had so often these days. He knew what kind of trouble his wayward sibling could get into on his own, having proven it last year over and over. And now he was off with Castiel who was hardly better, trying to once again prove that he could take care of things without his big brother's help. Dean ignored the niggling voice in his head that told him it was his own fault that Sam didn't ask for his help.

He was seriously considering dismantling the cell phone to see if there was anything inside he could use to jimmy the door when a noise startled him. Dean looked up from his perch on the cot as the door suddenly blew open and Castiel appeared. The angel strode forward, and before he could even think of anything to say, Dean found himself transported upstairs to Bobby's living room. He landed roughly on the couch and looked up to find a startled Bobby looking at him from his desk.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean grabbed his head to steady it for moment before turning to scowl at the angel.

"It is no longer necessary for you to be restrained," Castiel stated.

There was no mistaking the anger in Castiel's tone and Dean glanced at Bobby who looked just as confused as he felt .

"What do you mean? Where's Sam?"

Before he could answer, Bobby interrupted them. "We've got another problem. Adam's disappeared."

Both Dean and Castiel turned to look at the older man and Bobby frowned at them. "What? I didn't let him go. He was just there one minute and gone the next."

"The angels took him," Castiel declared.

Bobby frowned. "What do you mean, the angels took him? You branded his ribs, didn't you?"

"Yes. Adam must have tipped them."

"How?" Bobby questioned, wheeling himself forward from his desk.

"I don't know. Maybe in a dream."

"One problem at a time, Bobby," Dean interrupted, gesturing impatiently to the angel. "Where the hell's Sam and why did you let me out?"

Turning his gaze to the younger man, Castiel didn't answer for a moment and Dean felt his stomach drop at the look on his face.

"What did he do, Cas?" Dean said, fear harshening his tone. "What did you do?"

"I did what Sam asked me to do, Dean." Castiel faced the older brother, and despite being shorter than the other man, his presence was daunting. "I did what was necessary."

"What do you mean?" Dean grated out, wanting the throttle the angel, but knowing it would do no good.

"Sam asked me to give these to you." Castiel retrieved the letters from his pocket and handed one to each of the men.

Dean looked at the envelope in his hand before shaking his head angrily. "No. This is not happening. Tell me right now where…."

"Sam wanted me to find an angel that was willing to carry through with Anna's plan to scatter his cells. I did as he asked."

Dean could only stare at him, his mind unable to comprehend his words for a moment.

"You did what?" Bobby practically shouted as he wheeled forward. "Where is he? Where is Sam right now?"

"Sam is…"

"You bastard!" Dean lunged forward and grabbed Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat. "Tell me you're lying! Tell me you're just saying that so I'll change my mind about Michael! Tell me where my brother is, you son of a …"

Dean's words were abruptly cut off as he found himself suddenly against the wall, held there by a powerful hand.

"Sam is gone!" Castiel leaned forward, his usually calm face, livid. "He came to me and said that his brother was determined to give himself up and that he felt he had no choice but to try and kill himself in a way to keep Lucifer from using him as a vessel!"

Dean choked against the hand tightening at his throat as the angel continued, "He begged me to let him destroy himself so he could make up for his perceived sins and said that if it stopped the apocalypse, then it had to be done!" Castiel stopped his tirade for a moment, staring harshly into the man's stunned face, before letting Dean slide down the wall. He stepped back. "I did what I had to do…..and so did Sam."

The silence in the room was palpable after the shouting that had gone on before. Dean couldn't move from his place against the wall as he tried to comprehend what Castiel had said.

It couldn't be real. Dean found himself looking over at Bobby who had the same look of disbelief that must be on his own face. Dean tried to speak, but no words would come out and Bobby's face crumpled as his eyes watered and he looked away. The older man wiped at his eyes and wheeled himself back behind his desk to read his letter in private.

Dean looked down at his own letter and before he even realized what he was doing, he had opened the flap and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Unfolding it, he recognized his brother's scrawl immediately..

_Dear Dean,_

_First of all, don't be angry at Castiel. This is not his fault. He was only doing what I asked him to do. He's a soldier in a war and he knows, as do you and I, that we no longer have the luxury of allowing any opportunity to win go by without giving it a try. He didn't want to do it and I think I can count myself lucky that he feels that way considering how he felt when he first met me, don't you? _

_I guess second of all, I'm sorry. I know I've said it a thousand times, but I don't have anything else left to offer. And honestly, there are so many things that I'm sorry for, it would fill up a book, so I'll just say it once to encompass my whole life. _

_And thirdly, I want you to know that I don't blame you for giving up on me. I let you down so many times, it's a wonder that you held on as long as you did. So thank you for that. There is nothing I can do to make up for everything, but I hope you know that, in spite of what you may think, I know how lucky I was to have you for my big brother. This is not your fault no matter how you feel right now. You tried harder and longer than anyone had a right to expect to save me, but it was a losing battle, Dean. Dad should never have laid the responsibility for my safety and my life in your hands. You deserved so much better than that. I know we never talk about it, and I don't honestly know if you will believe me, but I didn't do any of it on purpose. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I wanted to save you. I wanted, for once, to control something and be able to say that I did something right. Well, we all know how that one turned out. Another chapter in the screwed up book of my life. _

_I had to do this, Dean and if you let yourself, you'll realize it too. My life has been a curse to everyone around me, you know that. If there had been a way, I would have gone back in time one more time to convince Mom not to have me. To make you an only child. You would have had a real childhood and a real home. You wouldn't have spent your whole life fighting for everything you have and saddled with the responsibility of taking care of a little brother who only ended up disappointing you. This is not me being a martyr. I can't tell you how much peace it would have given me to know that I could have prevented all the pain my existence has caused for so many people. To know that you and Mom and Dad and Jessica would have lived the lives you deserved if I wasn't around. _

_Maybe I can't change that, but I can do this. I can try one more time to make my existence worth something. I didn't mean to let Lucifer out of the cage, but I did, and I have to fix it. If my death is what it takes then it's more than worth it. If this works, then maybe you can finally stop fighting for everyone else and start living for yourself. I want that for you, Dean. You deserve it. You've earned it. Please do it. Consider it a dying wish. _

_Finally, I don't think of this as giving up. It's my choice and I choose to go out like a Winchester. If itworks, then be glad for me, Dean. I didn't let them win. I did exactly what you and Dad taught me. _

_Fight to your dying breath and go down swinging._

_I love you, you big jerk._

_Your Brother,_

_Sam _

Dean didn't feel the moisture on his face until he stopped reading. Wet blotches appeared on the paper and he closed the letter automatically to keep it from smearing. Looking up he saw a sight he never thought he would see. Bobby had unashamed tears running down his face, the baseball cap he kept on his head crumpled in his hands along with the letter that Sam had written to him. Whatever the letter had said, it apparently had penetrated the stoic heart of the old hunter, and Dean had to choke back a sound of his own at the sight of his surrogate father crying for his brother.

He looked down at his letter, Sam's brave, apologetic words hitting him like a freight train and Dean realized suddenly that this was the last thing he would ever hear from his brother. Sam's last will and testament.

Oh God. Dean felt his legs give out as he slid all the way to the floor. His brother was dead. His brother was gone and he would never see him again. His brother was dead and Dean's last words to him had been angry and hurtful. He suddenly knew how Sam must have felt after their father died. Like he would give anything to take them back. Like he would willing go to hell again just to be able to never have told Sam that he didn't believe in him, that he didn't trust him and that he might have to kill him as Lucifer.

He was never moving again. Dean slumped against the wall, his head falling forward as tears continued to leak from his eyes, and he felt numb. The world was saved now due to his brother and he couldn't care less. The world could go on without him. He would sit here until he rotted away into nothing.

A sound penetrated his despair and Dean looked up to see Castiel doubled over as if in pain. A second later, the angel jerked his head up in alarm and abruptly disappeared in a flap of wings, his last word hanging in the air like a wisp of smoke.

"Sam!"

_**TBC...**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Sorry it's taken so long to get this out. It was running long and I'm afraid it ends a little abruptly because I decided I had to break up the last two parts. But I didn't want to take any longer to post something. Hope you still enjoy it and I'm working on finishing up the next part._**

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**Chapter 6**

Dean stared in confusion at the spot where Castiel had stood a moment ago. He looked over at Bobby at the same time as the older man glanced at him.

"Did he just say, 'Sam'"? Bobby asked hoarsely, wiping at his eyes as he wheeled around to the front of his desk.

Dean opened his mouth to answer when a gust of wind blasted through the house, causing him to cover his head in surprise. When he looked up, he could only gape for a moment at the sight in front of him.

Castiel stood in the living room looking disheveled, cradling a very naked, unconscious Sam in his arms.

Dean scrambled to his feet as Bobby finally regained his voice. "What in the holy hell…"

"He is alive," Castiel interrupted , still holding his burden, and if Dean had had any sense of humor left, he might have found the picture of smaller man carrying his much bigger brother in his arms like a child, funny . But worry mixed with a healthy dose of relief had his attention.

Dean had rushed forward to see if what the angel had said was true, but he could already see Sam's chest rising and falling as he breathed. "Put him on the couch," he said roughly when Castiel continued to just stand there holding his burden.

"Bobby, we need a blanket," he uttered a moment later when he reached for his brother's pulse only to feel how ice cold his skin was. Sam's pulse was there, if a little sluggish, but Dean was happy to feel it at all as he gazed worriedly at the pasty, grey parlor of his skin.

"What happened?" he demanded, nodding gratefully when Bobby appeared a moment later with two blankets. He laid them both over his brother, tucking one of them under Sam's ice cold feet. Lifting one of Sam's hands, he began to chafe it, hoping to get some circulation going.

"Cas…" Dean barked, looking over at the angel in irritation when his questioned went unanswered, only to find Castiel uncharacteristically seated on a chair, his head in his hands.

"Give him a minute, Dean," Bobby said, staring between him and Sam on the couch, worriedly. "He's looking a little green around the gills. How's Sam doing?"

"I don't know, Bobby," Dean answered him testily, grabbing Sam's other hand to warm it up. "He's like a damn ice cube, but at least he's breathing." He looked over at the angel again, who still hadn't moved from his bent over position. "Cas, you want to tell us what the hell happened sometime today? Is Sam okay?"

The angel looked up, his face unusually haggard, to stare at Dean. Then his eyes moved to where Sam lay unconscious on the couch. "Sam is…he should recover sufficiently. He….."Castiel hesitated.

"He what?" Dean demanded. "What happened? It obviously didn't work so…."

"Jophiel did as we asked. He took Sam and began to dismantle his cells to scatter them but…."

"But what?" Bobby asked, when Castiel stopped again. "Did Lucifer catch him?"

The angel shook his head. "No, Lucifer did not have time to react." Castiel stood up from his chair.

"It was Michael."

"Michael?"Dean's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes Michael."Castiel answered. "He realized what Jophiel was doing at the same time as Lucifer felt what was happening, but he beat him to it. Michael stopped Jophiel before he could start hiding Sam's cells and he put him back together. Then he simply left him for me to find. I replaced his rib tattoos and brought him back here."

"You mean Sam was actually dead before Michael….."

"Yes Dean, your brother was technically dead before Michael restored him. It was his anger I felt when I left here. I think I am very lucky to have escaped his wrath…..Jophiel was not."

Dean didn't bother trying to act like he felt sorry for the angel who had killed his brother, but he refrained from scoffing. He looked down at Sam's sleeping face and suppressed an involuntary shiver at what had almost happened. His brother was ,once again, killed by an angel and , once again, restored by Michael. It was insane and he was pissed at the lot of them. But he was especially pissed at Castiel. His anger at his brother's actions would come later.

"You said Sam should be okay?"

"Yes, he was completely restored by Michael. I cannot predict how he will feel when he wakes up since I am not a doctor, but judging by how you've told me you feel when you are transported by me, I would say he will be tired and maybe a little….

"Nauseous and sick….yeah yeah, I got it," Dean finished for him. He could only imagine how it would feel to have your cells dismantled and put back together by a pissed off angel. His brother would need a few days of recovery no doubt.

Dean stood up and looked over at Bobby. "I'm gonna go upstairs and get Sam some clothes and that old electric blanket out of the closet." His gaze turned to Castiel and the baleful look he gave him should have set the angel on fire. "Don't be here when I get back."

"Dean," Bobby said, wheeling in front of the younger man to stop his progress to the stairs. "We need him here. We still don't know what happened to Adam and your brother might need….."

"He's done enough damage to Sam, Bobby!" Dean gestured angrily at the angel before stepping around the older man's wheelchair toward the steps. "And if what he said was true and the angels have Adam, then he's the one who needs to figure out where, before they hurt him." He turned to send another pointed glare at Castiel.

"I will go and try to find Adam."

At Castiel's declaration, Dean turned back toward the stairs.

"But Dean….."

The older brother stopped but didn't turn around.

"Maybe before you cast stones, you should ask yourself why your brother was willing to go to such drastic measures." The angel disappeared with barely a sound.

Dean could practically feel Bobby's stare on his back as he continued up the stairs, Castiel's words resonating in his head, but he tried not to think too hard as he rifled through Sam's duffle for clothes, the thought occurring to him that if Sam's plan had worked, this would be the only thing beside the letter he would have left of his brother. Just like last time.

Dean's hand clenched around the fabric in his hand for a second as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. A second later, he took his armful of clothes to the hall closet, seeing the old blanket up on the top shelf. When he pulled it down, a faint smell of moth balls wafted from it, and he wondered if the thing had been used since Bobby's wife had died.

When he got back down the stairs, Dean found Bobby next to the couch where Sam lay, his hand wrapped around one of Sam's wrists, obviously keeping his pulse. Two glasses and a bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table.

"I think we could use a stiff drink," Bobby said, glancing up as Dean approached.

"Understatement," Dean huffed as he lay the things he'd brought down next to Sam on the couch. He reached to lay a hand against Sam's forehead before pulling the blanket down to touch his chest and arms. Glad to feel that he seemed a bit warmer, Dean pulled the blanket the rest of the way off and began to dress his brother, his lips quirking slightly when Bobby tacitly moved away. A moment later, the older man returned to help when Dean was struggling to simultaneously hold Sam up and put his shirt on him. Eventually together, they managed to get the younger man dressed and covered with the warming blanket.

Dean finally sat down to have that drink, his eyes barely straying as he watched Sam's chest rise and fall with his breathing. His skin was still almost translucent. Dean sighed in weary resignation at the sight of his brother once again laid out unconscious before him after a run in with an angel.

"He'll be alright, Dean." Bobby's voice penetrated his morose thoughts and Dean glanced at him before his gaze was inexorably drawn back to his brother.

"Yeah, if I don't kill him when he wakes up." Dean rose abruptly from the chair he was in to run a hand over his mouth. "I mean, what the hell was he thinking, Bobby? How could he think this was a good idea?"

"Are you listening to yourself, boy?"Bobby asked in irritated exasperation at Dean's outburst. "What do you think he was thinking? He was thinking that his fool brother was about to commit hari-kiri and he wasn't going to sit around and do nothing while it happened He's been down that road before." Bobby leaned over and slammed his empty drink glass down on the table a little too hard. "And I don't know what your letter said, but mine basically told me that Sam feels like he ain't never gonna make up for what he feels like he did to you and me and the world and that he doesn't deserve to." The old man shook his head. "And I'm pretty sure we haven't done anything to help change that idea."

"How is what he did different from me becoming Michael's meatsuit, huh?" Dean argued heatedly. "He had me on lockdown in the damn panic room for running off on my own, but it's okay for him to run off and try and kill himself?"

"No it ain't okay," Bobby argued right back. "But I get why he did it, and I'm pretty sure that if you stop being a damn idiot for half a minute and start really thinking about what Sam said in his letter, you'll get it too. Now quit your bitchin' and see to your brother. I'm going to bed." The older man expertly turned his chair around and wheeled out of the room, leaving Dean to stare after him.

_**TBC...**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to everybody who has been reading this story, my first Supernatural fic. I appreciate all of your kind words and all of you who followed/favorited.**

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**Chapter 7**

Sitting heavily in his chair, Dean leaned forward to run his hands wearily over his short hair. Just having a moment to catch his breath after the events of the last few hours should have been welcome, but with Sam unconscious on the couch after another fight with an angel, relaxation was out of the question.

What should he say to his brother when he woke up? As relieved as he was that the younger man was still in one piece, Dean couldn't help the anger that still simmered. And he realized the anger was at himself as much as Sam. Anger seemed to be his MO these days.

A white blur out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Sam's letter was sitting on the floor where he'd dropped it when Castiel had showed up, but before he could even process the thought of getting up to get it, a noise from Sam's direction drew Dean's attention, and he quickly moved to crouch beside the couch.

"Sam….you with me?" Dean urged as the disoriented gaze roamed for a moment before zeroing in on his face.

"Dean…." Sam's voice was a hoarse whisper as he answered back almost automatically, but as his eyes strayed around the room again, Dean saw the reality of the situation sink in. His kamikaze plan hadn't worked.

Watching the devastation register on his younger brother's face, Dean managed to keep his irritation in check as he helped Sam push himself up on the couch when it became clear that he was too weak to do it himself. He handed over a water bottle, keeping an eye on it as Sam shakily brought it to his mouth for a few small swallows before he had to let it drop to his lap.

"What…happened?" Sam finally asked, his stricken gaze more or less in his lap. "Did Lucifer….?"

"According to Cas, it was Michael who stopped it."

"Michael? But Cas…."

"Cas is fine," Dean replied shortly, getting up from his crouched position. "For now," he added, his tone making it clear that it might not be the case for long.

Sam finally ventured a look at his brother's face and saw the anger Dean was not really bothering to mask even as he'd helped him settle, and was just too tired and nauseous to even try and defend himself.

"Go ahead," he rasped. "I know you're dying to lay into me, so go for it."

Dean stared at him for a second before abruptly turning away.

"You really want to take that tone with me after the stunt you just pulled?" he growled. "You really wanna push my buttons after I sat here waiting for you to wake up after you tried to have an angel pull you apart and scatter your carcass all over the galaxy without telling me?"

Sam had the grace to wince a little at his brother's rising tone, but he didn't back down. For some reason…maybe it was his exhaustion… maybe it was just finally having given up himself….. Sam was through being on the defensive.

"I'm not trying to push your buttons. And you can be as mad at me as you want, but I'm not going to pretend to be sorry, Dean."

"What?" Dean frowned at him in furious disbelief. "You lock me in the panic room and give me a lecture about sacrificing myself and working together and you're gonna sit there and…."

"This from the guy who was trying to become an angel condom…."

"At least I wasn't trying to kill myself….."

"No just half the planet," Sam replied tiredly. "And what do you think Lucifer was going to do once you bent over for Michael? Don't you think he might have stepped up his campaign to get me to say yes? You think anyone would have been safe from that?" Their heated conversation was sapping what little strength he had left.

"That's exactly what I was trying to prevent…."

"Did you read my letter?"

Sam's quiet question stopped Dean's words abruptly. He stared at his brother's pale, drawn face and sighed before sitting down on the coffee table in front of him to rub a tired hand over his jaw.

"Yeah, Sam, I read your letter."

"Then you know why I did it."

Dean watched his brother pull the blanket closer around him, apparently still feeling the effects of his ordeal. But what got him was the tone in his voice. It struck Dean that he'd never heard it before. He'd lived with Sam most of his life, and he thought he'd heard his brother in every possible manifestation, but really hadn't heard this Sam before.

The one who had given up.

His anger gone for the moment, Dean tried. "Look, Sam, I owe you an apology for…

"You don't owe me anything, Dean."

"But I shouldn't have said….."

"You said how you felt. I don't blame you."

"Well you should!" Dean rose abruptly from the coffee table. "Get mad, Sam. I deserve it! Don't just sit there like….." he gestured helplessly as the younger man continued to lie on the couch in silence instead of giving him the fight he wanted. He wanted his brother to be angry so he could be angry back.

"What do you want from me, Dean?" Sam suddenly asked him, for the first time looking him full in the face with damp, hazel eyes…the eyes of someone who had endured too much.

"Do you want me to say I'm sorry? Well, I am. But only for making you feel guilty. I'm not sorry for trying to end this. And you know why? Because I had to. Because I caused it and I need to be the one to end it." Sam swallowed at the lump in his throat but it was futile. "And because…..because…I'm tired too. I'm tired of being who I am, okay? The "one with the Demon blood", the black sheep who didn't love his family enough….the screw up who trusted a demon. And I get that I deserve it, okay, I get it. I deserve it…..but …."

His abused vocal cords finally gave out and Sam dropped his gaze from Dean's, but not before the older brother saw the tears in his eyes finally break free. It had been quite a while since Dean had seen his brother lose control like this, but it seemed the combination of his ordeal and exhaustion were the last straw.

And in that moment, Dean suddenly got it.

Sam hated himself.

Maybe it shouldn't have come as such a shock to him. Dean had some pretty deep rooted self esteem issues as well. Okay, understatement, but he'd always thought , in spite of the fact that Sam was ashamed of the demon blood inside him and afraid of the dormant power it provided, that his brother was a proud man. After all, he'd had the fortitude and confidence to leave his family and strike out on his own at an early age, and God knows he'd told Dean how much better of a hunter he was a few times during the whole Ruby fiasco. Of course, now he knew it had been the demon blood talking, but still…

_You're self righteous…..you're arrogant….._

Dean recalled the words he'd leveled at him. He'd believed them then, but now as he contemplated his brother, he realized that he'd been blind to what was going on right in front of him.

Dean remembered his trip to the future and how he'd come back determined to start over with Sam. He'd told his brother more than once that starting the apocalypse had not been his fault. He'd even realized and told him that he'd been so busy worrying about what he was doing, that he hadn't realized what it was doing to him. And at the time, Dean meant those words.

But so much had happened since then. Their trip into the past …Ellen and Jo….the mental institution …famine…..the disastrous trip to heaven… so much crap.

Dean had felt the weight of those things on top of his trip to hell, and knew that he had let them bog him down to the point of no return. His decision to give into Michael had been a selfish one and he knew that he was letting the angels win but, at the time, he hadn't cared. He didn't want to have one more failure on his head. He just wanted it over.

But what he hadn't done, once again, was take into account what those same things were doing to Sam.

Sam, who had lived through all of the same crap, hell notwithstanding, and endured not only his brother's condemnation, but angels, demons and hunters all trying to use him for their own ends. Sam, who had begged him not to give up, all the while living with this apparently crippling self hatred without a single word of self pity, and who had been working to try and make up for what he'd done, only to have his efforts thrown back in his face by the brother who was supposedly the one who valued family in their relationship.

_I just…I—I don't believe._

_In what?_

_In you._

Swallowing guiltily, Dean felt a prickling behind his eyes. He'd really fucked this up. He'd let his anger and his own issues rule his head. He'd told himself that he was the one taking the high road in letting his brother back in after what he'd done, when what he'd really been doing was lying to himself and to Sam.

He hadn't forgiven him and he hadn't trusted him and Sam knew it and had been trying to live with it anyway….until he couldn't. Until he had finally taken drastic measures to try and fix things. Things that he wasn't the only one responsible for breaking.

_If this works, then maybe you can finally stop fighting for everyone else and start living for yourself. I want that for you, Dean. You deserve it. You've earned it. Please do it. Consider it a dying wish. _

God. The fact that Sam had tried killing himself to save the world was bad enough, but the worst thing …..Dean almost laughed at the notion…..the worst thing was that throughout Sam's letter, it was obvious that the most important thing to Sam was for Dean to be happy. To have the things neither one of them had ever really had. A home, a Mom and Dad who put them first….

A life he thought would be better without his little brother.

Shit. Dean rubbed at sudden wetness in his eyes. He looked down at Sam who still sat dejectedly on the couch in front of him and it suddenly galled him to see his strong, willful brother looking so defeated. He couldn't stand it a moment longer.

"Sam….." Dean began but when his brother didn't look up, he tried again.

"Sammy…..look at me."

When the wet gaze finally lifted Dean was struck anew at the ability of his grown up brother to look like a five year old when he was at the end of his rope. He needed to fix this.

"I need to apolo…."

"I told you, you don't….."

"Just shut up and let me say this," Dean interrupted, determined not to let this conversation get away from him again. "I need to say this."

Sam subsided, his gaze warily fixed somewhere other than his brother's eyes.

"I've been a dick, okay? A lot has happened…to both of us….and I let it get to me. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I know how hard you've been trying. I know you've been working your ass off to make things up to….all of us….but Dude, it's time to stop." Dean sat down tiredly on the edge of the coffee table. "You screwed up…..but so did I."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up a hand to stop him. "I did, Sam. I screwed up by not listening to you when I should have. I screwed up by letting angels and demons come between me and what I've always done. Take care of my little brother."

"Dean," Sam said hoarsely. "All you've ever done is try and take care of me. I'm the one who didn't listen….."

"You were being manipulated, Sam. We both were and we both forgot Dad's cardinal rules." Dean wiped a hand over his face and looked directly into his brother's eyes. "Only trust each other, watch each other's backs and never let them separate you."

Sam gazed back at him and finally nodded. "Yeah, we sort of let that one get away from us."

At Sam's quiet acknowledgment, Dean felt the first sliver of hope he'd had since his brother woke up.

"Sam….you were wrong about what you said…..in your letter," Dean clarified when Sam's brow furrowed. "My life would not have been better without you in it." Dean rolled his eyes. "That sounded less "chick-lit" in my head."

One side of Sam's expressive mouth actually lifted at that as Dean continued, "I mean it, alright? Stow this crap about my childhood being all Dickensian because you were born."

"Dickensian? Seriously?" Sam's raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I heard it in a movie. Anyway, you get my point." Dean looked at him seriously. "I never wanted a life without my brother in it, even when I thought for a stupid minute that we should try different hemispheres. Even before when….. " Dean saw Sam's eyes darken at the implication of those horrible days before Lucifer had risen. "Even when you were high and fighting me okay?"

"You say that, Dean," Sam uttered thickly, "but it had to cross your mind that it wasn't worth it. That hell….wasn't worth….me."

Dean stared at his brother and abruptly decided on honesty. "Hell was…hell, Sam. It wasn't worth it." When Sam's swimming gaze lowered as he nodded, Dean unconsciously reached out a hand to grasp his brother's forearm. "It wasn't worth what you ended up going through because of it."

Looking down at the hand touching him, Sam was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. It had been forever since his brother had touched him in affection. He shook his head as he lifted his eyes to Dean's. "It wasn't worth what either of us went through, Dean."

"There weren't this many hormones floatin' around when my wife lived here."

Bobby's gruff voice from the doorway brought their heads around in unison to look at him. He wheeled towards the couch, seeing that his comment had had the desired effect. The intense emotions in the room dissipated, but the tension from before was gone as well.

"How you doin' boy?" Bobby came as close to the couch as he could manage in his chair.

"I'm okay, Bobby," Sam replied, attempting to look it, but neither of the other hunters was fooled.

"Yeah, if you didn't look so much like road kill, I'd give you the talking to you deserve for putting us through that."

The words were gentle in tone and Sam looked apologetically at the older man, but Bobby shook his head. "You can make it up to us by gettin' better and helping us when Cas comes back with info on Adam."

"Adam?" Sam looked around, realizing abruptly that he'd forgotten about his half brother. "What happened?"

Bobby frowned at Dean who answered, "He disappeared not too long after you did. Cas thinks the angels came to him in a dream and he told them where he was. He's gone to try and find out."

"We've got to find him, Dean. He doesn't know what they're really like," Sam said urgently, trying to get up from the couch, but even sitting up straighter caused his already pale face to turn even more ashy and he sat back abruptly as the room spun around him.

"Woah there cowboy." Dean put his hands on his brother's shoulders when it looked like he was going to topple off the couch. "Nobody's going anywhere until Cas gets back, so cool your jets until you can stand without hitting the floor with your face. You got ripped apart and put back together all within a few hours. I'm pretty sure it's going to take a while for you to be fully up to being vertical."

"But…."

'No buts, boy. You're officially on bed rest until we're satisfied you can be up and about without taking out the furniture." Bobby wheeled around and headed for the kitchen. "You can start with eating something."

Sam looked a little green at the thought and Dean shook his head. "You better try and eat whatever he brings or your ass is going to be stuck to this couch for the duration."

"What do think the angels are going to do to Adam?"Sam asked shakily, thankful that his vision had settled, but still feeling the effects of trying to rise. He sincerely hoped whatever Bobby brought was light because just the thought of food was making him want to hurl.

"Lie to him. Tell him what he wants to hear so he'll do whatever they want. You know the drill." Dean pulled the blanket up from where it had dropped when he saw that Sam was trembling faintly. "Or they'll threaten him until he does it. Either way, he's screwed." Dean frowned at the worried expression on Sam's face. "We'll find him, Sam. We will."

Sam looked at him with relief and so much faith that Dean was humbled anew and he leaned forward to promise succinctly "I won't say yes, Sam. I promise. We're in this together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them, and do it our way."

Sam smiled. "Sounds good." He sat back, finally able to relax as an unfamiliar feeling washed over him.

Hope. The apocalypse still loomed, Lucifer was free, and Adam was at the mercy of Zachariah…but Sam felt hope for the first time in longer than he could remember. And all because Dean was back in the game.

Closing his eyes, Sam smiled slightly when he felt Dean tuck the blanket more securely around him. Yeah, screw destiny. The Winchester brothers were back.

**The End**


End file.
